


Perfect

by Nobodybitesherlip, rael_ellan



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: AU, F/M, Maleficent AU, Sci Fi AU, dystopian au, dystopian maleficent AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobodybitesherlip/pseuds/Nobodybitesherlip, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rael_ellan/pseuds/rael_ellan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 22nd century and warfare is corporate. The Fae people own The Moors Project; the last preservation of millions of flora and fauna. The human city only wants access for their own benefit, and after an assassination attempt on the fairy Maleficent they think they are close to getting what the CEO of SPINDL Corporation has always wanted: access to thousands of plant based medicines and chemicals for their biggest venture: The Aurora Project.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Obedient Servant

It was a burnt summer day, and it should have been far too hot to walk.

The streets in The Divide were always dirty with all the city smells; litter, urine, pollution. The sun glinted off the steel structures overhead and the heat of the day refracted off the pavements along with the stale scent of cooking oil from a vent nearby.

Maleficent walked on among it all, ignoring the various shades of passers-by. No-one spared her too long a glance; it was the sort of area where even if you saw another person, they didn't look too long or care who you were. Only once had someone tried to mug her for her things, and a flash of green magic had sent them yowling and running.

She had ended up walking here more and more often. At first it had been an accident, lost in thought, with a glamour to keep the worst of the pollution out of her lungs; it was lovely not to be looked at and a lone figure in black with a stick was hardly to be commented on here. Besides, it was near enough to the hospital, but not where she would be recognised. 

She'd gone a little too far today. The heat didn't bother her overly, and her loose black shirt kept the sun off her pale shoulders. Yet, she was reaching the end of the seedy shops (a good number without signs), unmarked doorways, gates and stairs up into tall but ramshackle buildings. Rounding a corner that Maleficent didn't recognise, she was confronted with The Fence. Mal stopped for curiosities sake. It was unassuming, chain-linked and a little rusty, with a creaking gate that was bolted but not locked shut. It cut the street in half, and beyond it were some poor and small looking terraced houses and flat blocks. The gate itself was littered with swaying charms, tied on, mostly on the far side.

Something caught her eye behind the charms. Past the fence and sprinting, probably, hard to tell at this distance, was a dark figure. It shimmered and shook in the heat haze, but it was growing closer and heading for the fence. As it neared and took the shape of a man, three more distant blurs appeared behind it, also running.

Maleficent wondered about moving away from the corner, but it was at least faintly more interesting than her room waiting back in the ward, so she stopped, shading her eyes from the sun. As the figure came ever closer, leaping a pothole in the road and stumbling slightly, she could see it was a young skinny man pale but pink with exertion, messy and wild eyed. He had something tangled over his shoulder and round his leg, under one arm with ropes tangled over his torso. It appeared to be slowing him and the figures behind were gaining.

It seemed to take just a split second and he was at the Fence. The man slammed into it, dark hair flopping sweatily into his eyes as he scrabbled for the bolt.

"Fuck."

He swore breathily as it wouldn't draw, looked up like a caged animal. He tried again. With a final screech of rust the bolt gave way, and quick as a cat he was through, slamming the gate behind him, struggling to draw the bolt closed once more.

By this time the three had caught up and Maleficent, to gain a clearer view of them, stepped away from the wall. As she had felt, they were an unsavoury lot. One was tall, an over six foot bruiser with metal through both his ears and the bald head of a lower chemical lab worker. The other two were kids, more the skinny mans size, also gangly and flushed, but furious.

Maleficent slowly walked forwards as they reached for the lock. The smallest looked up and shouted something she didn't catch, just as the chased man spun around to flee once more, and collided with her.

"Shit-"

He was older than she'd thought, not a teenager but a bony young man with dark wide eyes and symmetrical magic-burn scars down both cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry-"

What she had taken for ropes around the man's torso were actually charmed wires, live and glittering to suppress any magic. She could feel them hot near her hands as she pushed him away by the shoulders, steadied him. This wasn't just idle messing around; they were prepared for him, ready to stop him, this shifter. 

"Stay there, behind me. They won't come through."

"Yeah, and what makes you so sure?" Yet he dipped behind her pulling at the wires.

He had a northern lilt to his voice, she noted, as she walked towards The Fence again. The three men behind it looked up at her, the youngest almost in fright (was it the horns?) but the brutish one had just pulled the lock back and pulled the gate open.

"Stop right there."

A minor glamour had her voice echo off the bricks to either side of them, and the two younger men actually stopped but the largest one carried forwards. Maleficent could see the sweat on his bald pate, the narrowed eyes, his thick fingers curling into fists on one hand, the other to a pistol at his belt. How easy, he thought, to get this woman creature out of the way.

Maleficent dropped her cane as he pulled the pistol out of his pocket, a sneer already curling as he was about to speak-

Maleficent's eyes flashed green:

"I. Said. Stop."

It was only as his feet left the ground that the man must have realised that he'd made a huge mistake.

"I- shit- put me down put me down you're gonna fucking regret this you witch!" 

Maleficent raised her hands, the magic curling off them like smoke.

The man writhed in the air, legs kicking, whites of his eyes rolling as the pressure of the magic held him in a vice.

"You're going to head back to your side of The Fence aren't you?"

"Like fuck I am, you're not involved witch, put me down and we won't hurt you- we just want the crow man- witch!" 

The two smaller men-boys?- were lagging back, one the other side of The Fence already- "Leave it, leave it-" gritted teeth, fear- Maleficent felt oddly, wonderfully, powerful. She realised she was probably holding the bald man a little too tightly, but the law be damned and everything, everything be damned. 

"I, fuck, let me go," he squealed, the other two well back by now. 

"Let me go, what, pray?"

"Let me fucking go!"

Maleficent sighed and rolled her eyes, gleaming with power. "Not what I was looking for but I suppose 'please' isn't in your vocabulary." She tilted her head and raised him a little higher, curling her fingers around the green tendrils so his body was forced into a straight jacket of magic. 

Behind her she heard the skinny man throw down the charmed wires with a triumphant huff, and it brought her back to her senses. Don't hurt them, stay legal (not that the pistol was, not that the charmed wire was.) 

"You'll leave this man alone or the next time you touch him, or one of us, you'll be less three fingers on each hand. Agreed?"

The man nodded, so much as he could, tightly bound in the air a few metres off the ground. Maleficent didn't wait for him to speak again, but lowered him just a little, so as not to break anything, then let him fall. With a thud and a pained groan and trousers on gritty concrete he backed away.

The other two were already running, leaving the gate to bang behind them. Hopping backwards, the bald man followed, casting a filthy but also mildly fearful glance back at Maleficent. Behind the placebo safety of The Fence he turned back and gave the skinny man behind her the finger, spat, and then made the universal threat: he pointed, slashed at his neck, pointed again. You. Are. Dead.

Maleficent let her hands fall slowly, the magic slowly dispersing from her fingertips in jade smoke. As she turned, the skinny man was still standing there, the wire at his feet, rubbing the pink marks the thing had left on his tattooed arms. (Feathers, runes, wild flowers. What a fae folk cliché.)

The sun was hot on Maleficent's scraped back hair, on her scarred horns. They could hear the tormentors leaving, boots scuffing on the road, and she could see the dark skinny man watching them go over her shoulder. 

Dragging his eyes away from then, the pale man who had caught his breath by now sucked his teeth and grimly smiled at Maleficent, "Anyhow, as I was about to say...." 

"What do I call you?"

"Diaval." He smiled widely, the sort of smile that just knows it's charming. 

She was about to speak again but he beat her to it, and held out a hand. "Thank you, for that. You didn't have to. Kinda scary though, if I do say so."

Maleficent shook her head very slightly, and as quickly as she took it let go of his bony hand, though his palm was warm against her cool one. She had noted that that scars she had seen on his face extended down his arms and one over his middle finger that curled all the way round. She snapped her head back up and met his dark hooded eyes and wide knowingly charming smile, despite the mortal danger he'd just been in.

"Did I just save your life?"

The man, Diaval, blinked in surprise at her sudden serious tone. 

"I, uh," his gaze flicked away, down the to the fading red marks on his arms from the charmed wires, and back to her, her curling dark horns and severe glittering eyes, "I, uh, guess you did." 

The plan had risen in her as she watched the humans run. There was old magic, as ancient as the old stories of old kings and kingdoms and beyond. A life for a life was in every old book, every religious tome- whether they agreed or not. Maleficent's eyes fluttered shut. 

"Do you agree," she began, the green rising in her voice so Diaval heard it, and his eyes widened though unseen by her own. "-Agree that I, Maleficent, saved your life." 

Diaval blinked, stood up straighter. "I... do."

Maleficent held out her hand again, but this time her voice and her hand were tinged with a green glamour that curled and wavered about her long fingers. "By the magic contract agreement of 1993 I offer you the protection and terms of the life debt agreement." The original words, they both knew, were nothing so legal but there was no point in repeating them.

Diaval paused, his eyes flitting backwards and forwards over her face. There was a pregnant pause, before, slowly, he took her hand with a faint gulp.

Of course, there was no need for him to repeat the old words either, but he did.

"I am your obedient servant." 

As Maleficent opened her eyes. As the magic dissipated they released hands. In feudal times with this sort of pact, no touching had been required due to plagues and infections and lords and kings not wanting to touch their peasant vassals. The charm had all ridden in the incantation, but with the legal re-writing of this somewhat controversial magical pact a business handshake had replaced the flowery spoken charm. 

They stepped back, away from each other a little, Diaval, heady with the shock of what he'd just agreed to and Maleficent already drawing back into herself.

"I should return to the hospital." 

Diaval frowned, confused. "The hospital?" 

Maleficent shot him a steely glance and Diaval paled a little. She could practically see the panic at what he'd just done rising behind his eyes. To lighten the mood she attempted a smile, before she remembered that she didn't, habitually. 

"I- have I just rescued a very unsavoury character?"

The man grinned showing wide white teeth, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes, "Ach, depends on who you speak to." There was a brief awkward silence where Diaval seemed to expect her to ask what he'd done, but Maleficent just regarded him silently.

"Well," she finally began, "I will only be properly discharged in five days, but I can give you my ward number and code so if you need anything you can contact me." To avoid looking at this stray she'd just picked up she rummaged in her pockets for a scrap of paper, and came up with only a pen. Diaval held out a hand.

"May as well write it on me I guess." 

Maleficent was only momentarily phased (how often was it required to hold your servants hand in one five minute accidental meeting?). Diaval held out a hand and awkwardly she wrote down the hospital name, ward and number in what was clearly normally cursive and fluent handwriting. Letting go of his hand Diaval wiggled his fingers to watch the bones move the letters, then tucked it in his pocket. "I'll write it down as soon as I can."

Maleficent nodded. "Well, come and find me in five days, or ring on the last day if you can. You have somewhere to stay until then I assume?" 

Somehow the enormity of taking on a life-bound servant hadn't quite registered until then. Here was Maleficent who turned down her therapists' idea of getting a cat for goodness sakes. Too much responsibility. Seven hells. 

Thankfully, the skinny man, Diaval, nodded. "Yeah, yeah I can hang about here for five days. I know the hospital too, it's fine."

Maleficent nodded again, curtly, and turned to go. She bent down to pick up her cane where she'd kicked it, and could feel Diaval's gaze on her bandaged back and her slightly stiff movements. 

"I- um, Maleficent?" Diaval said the name in his northern lilt carefully, as thought he might say it wrong, and she realised that she had never introduced herself even before she cursed- no- made the magic pact. 

She turned. 

"I uh, what will y' have me do? I mean, what do you do?" 

"I own the Moors Project. You'll work for me there; I could use somebody to be my wings." 

Maleficent turned away again, her cane clicking sharply on the concrete as Diaval watched her retreating, imposing figure all in dark clothing, remembering only now the headlines about the attempted assassination of the guardian of the Moors Project Charity- something that had even reached the human news. 

His hand crept over his shoulder to feel for wings that weren't there now anyway. Then, he kicked the charmed wires furiously, and glanced nervously in habit behind him before shifting a haze of dark magic into a raven and taking for the skies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some changes in the Moors Project.

Diaval turned up late with a battered rucksack and hiking boots that had seen better days. The rest of his clothes were showy, city wear, everything in inky pretentious blacks and ornamental fastenings. Maleficent glanced him up and down with a faint sneer.

"You look ridiculous."

Diaval's eyebrows drew closer together and he glanced at his shabby toes. "Yeah well, I had to borrow these."

Maleficent didn't reply.

They were standing on the pavement outside of the hospital, still in The Divide. It was a rainy day, this one, the polar opposite of the weather on the fated day they'd met. Diaval shrugged his bag and jacket up and turned his collar up about his ears. It was bloody cold for early Autumn. Since the last time he'd seen her, Maleficent walked much the same, stiffly with a stick, but something about her posture had changed. Diaval realised that it was her hair- tied back- invisible- under a black wrap that also wound up and about the bottoms of those curving horns.

"We had better go. You're late." Maleficent coughed, smartly, and turned on her heel. 

Diaval skipped to catch up, even at her stick assisted pace, and he hopped alongside her.

"So," he ventured, as Maleficent skirted a puddle. Diaval knocked his head against some ornaments hanging from a shop front. "How are we getting there?"

They skirted around a cloud of sprites that turned to watch Maleficent pass, their eyes like saucers, their wings a'flutter. Diaval looked faintly uncomfortable. Maleficent wondered, briefly, if it was the attention she was getting or, looking at the way he watched a group of dryads drift past, if he simply wasn't used to being in East-Side. How odd. Must have been brought up by humans, or - no. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to ask. 

"Walking."

Maleficent almost smiled as Diaval's face fell like a stone, "I - "

"Don't be ridiculous, we're taking the train."

"Oh, right. Obviously."

It occurred to her that Diaval probably didn't walk anywhere, particularly. Well, why should he?

\---

The station was thronged with a mixture of human and Fae passengers, doing their level best to avoid each other, both queuing for the same services. Maleficent produced two travel passes from nowhere, and led a fidgeting Diaval to platform 15. The station was old, all early 21st century airport in style with sloping glass and far too much air to heat. Their breath misted in front of them. 

Maleficent stood stiffly, while Diaval dropped his rucksack with a huff and leant against a pillar. 

In silence, they both waited for the shuttle, Diaval trying to study Maleficent when he thought she wasn't looking, and Maleficent resolutely trying not be curious about her adopted employee. It wasn't difficult for her as the standing was far more uncomfortable than walking, and she'd already stood waiting for Diaval for a quarter of an hour earlier. Before long she let her eyes flutter shut and tried to breathe evenly.

Diaval kicked his rucksack strap backwards and forwards with his toe. He had questions, obviously, about sixty of them, but Maleficent was not exactly inviting conversation. She must have known he'd look her up on the local net. She must have known he'd have read every story on the "Growing Power behind the Moors Project," who was, "The Victim of a Brutal Assassination Attempt" by an unidentified human, rumoured to work at SPINDL corp. She had named him, but there was an injunction on the press releasing said name- though some indy Fae papers in The Divide had risked it; posted on the net and then claimed the articles weren't theirs. Stefan West. 

As though thinking the name brought Maleficent back from her repose, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

"The shuttle's here." 

\---

Maleficent had a Citizen Grade 1 pass, as opposed to Diaval's Grade 0 which meant he would be accommodated by a human size seat, and she would not. 

It took only a glance at her face to work out that she hadn't had time to update her pass or even think about it- her expression was ugly, so ugly- a mixture of pain and unbearable hurt as they walked through the Grade 1 coach, all bigger seats and stools for winged creatures. She quickly smoothed it away again, and gestured to two seats, with backs.

"We may as well sit there."

"But I'm a zero - "

"They never check."

Oh, thought Diaval, this whole damn thing was gonna be seven layers of awkward. 

\------

The walk to the dome was long and awkward too. They were an hour away from the shuttle stop by now, in brisk, grey skied air with damp winds blowing over the scrubland. 

The air felt fresh (in comparison to the city air, anyway) and the wind was so blustery and strong and Diaval would have given anything to be up there, high above the roads just riding the currents, but of course, Maleficent walked, and so did he. There were plants everywhere; the hedgerows bursting green. It was mostly weeds and invasive plants, of course - knotweeds and brambles and nettles and ferns (the oldest of the plants, ferns; Diaval felt quite some respect for them.) He knew now from the files he'd looked at on the net that the land was in parts contaminated with chemical waste, but generally so out of the way and long abandoned that the soil was safety grade 1 again. In most places. The city was a hive of chemical laboratories and bio-tech factories, and the fae people always seemed to stay well clear of any nuclear power stations and areas of waste. Nuclear, claimed one fairy lord mayor, was the scientific equivalent to a nasty spell gone awry. The damage it caused would last until the end of time. It was said that the fae folk tended to feel radiation sickness faster than non magical creatures. (Hence there were no fairy folk in East Africa anymore.) 

Diaval snapped back from his reminiscing on seeing dark bobbing branches in the roadside scrubs. Wild blackberries! By far his favourite weed - edible, wonderful - here he even risked taking one and popping it in his mouth, after snagging his sleeve on the thorns and narrowly missing his wrist on a nettle.

"Eugh." Sour as sin - it was still red and hard on one side. He spat it out and Maleficent turned round in a billow of dark skirts. (Imposing, did she do it intentionally?)

"Have you been deprived of countryside so long you're attempting to eat the hedgerows?" Her words should have been teasing but her tone fell a little short, and without waiting for a reply she span around to walk again, her stick clomping on the cracked old concrete. 

Diaval wiped his mouth and skipped over a puddle, his bag bumping on his back. Gods, he'd gave to get used to walking more if this contract thing was gonna last longer than a few weeks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to walk more than a street or two without taking to the air. 

"Sorry, manners from a pigsty as my friends would say."

Maleficent didn't reply. What the hell had he gotten himself in for? Weeks here, away from everyone he knew with a cold eyed fairy he barely knew who somehow, somehow, he was in a life binding contract with. Shit, well, she might be regretting it as much as me, he thought. Who knows. 

Ahead, finally, Biodome 3 loomed. 30 of these giant glass and polythene houses made up The Moors Project, each big enough to stand several city houses up on top of each other inside, big enough to house even the tallest trees. They were long, too, each one at least twice in length as they were high and glittering in the harsh grey cloud light. 

Diaval had looked up The Moors Project on the net, but the tiny images hadn't really prepared him for the scale. Plus, there was little up about them. All he knew was that three was nearest the road and the ones beyond didn't take visitors. 

"Gosh that's... big." It was inane and Maleficent didn't even respond, but hell, he had to say it. Diaval stumbled on a rock. When had they last paved this path? "I'm glad we're nearly there."

"We're going to stay in dome 24, don't get too excited."

"And- how far back is that one exactly?"

"Oh, only another hour I suppose."

From behind it was hard to tell but he thought Maleficent might be- smiling.

"Seriously?"

She was, she was smiling. What an arse. 

"You poor city bird."

Diaval could only huff in response. But hey, she talks. Sometimes. 

\---------------------

Where are those idiots?

The glasshouse door made a resounding crack as Maleficent smacked it open, with a strength she didn't even know she had left. Luckily it didn't crack, but Diaval dragging their bags had to dodge it on the rebound. 

Flittle looked up with with a gasp, politely muffled as quickly as she could.

They were in the conservatory of the old manor, dust covered and decrepit as it was- the conservatory they'd kept for meetings and such. Flittle was seated at the table, reading a file, curling a piece of blue hair between her fingers before Maleficent walked in.

The file hit the table and Maleficent met Flittle's wide eyed gaze. 

"Get me the others. Everyone."

"I- um- Thistle is in Dome 4 doing the-"

"Everyone."

Maleficent practically spat the word.

Flittle stood with a flutter of wings, rubbing her denim clad arm. "But to call a meeting we need-"

"Everyone. Now."

Flittle's mouth was open, and she barely had time to register a dark clad Diaval lurking behind Maleficent as she left by the garden door.

"What are you going to do?" 

Maleficent picked up the file Flittle had left behind: an inventory of Arecaceae plants. Not, she noted, organised alphabetically. 

"Maleficent?"

She turned back to him. 

"That's far too personal. Try something else."

He looked confused, apparently already used to her silence. That was good. 

"Alright. Madam? Ma'am?" He offered a tentative grin. "Mistress?"

The grin faltered as she looked at him.

"We'll work on it. Ma'am will do, for now."

He nodded, more like a twitch, and stood back. He looked almost hurt. No matter.

People began to slip into the room around them, standing nervously in the corners and whispering together. A few were brave enough to try and smile at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Diaval smile back. 

Thistle and Flittle, predictably, were the last to return. 

Maleficent threw down the file on the old wooden table with a clank. The whispering slowly petered out. Maleficent slowly looked around at each of them- only eight missing, who would no doubt be in the furthest domes- or on unofficial leave. 

What a messy excuse for a staff they made. Some scientists, historical biologists, librarians, the hippy volunteers and gardeners. A patchwork crowd- no wonder SPINDL corp thought they get whatever they wanted from them. Well, no more.

"The Moors Project is Changing."

There was a tentative rustling nod- to appease- uneasy.

"Three things." She enunciated each word clearly and slowly, met Thistle's gaze, then Polly's- the slighter, more ethereal winged nature fairies, near human sized but with shimmering gossamer wings. Flittle was fidgeting.

"Security. The main road, anyone could walk in. We need identity checks at each dome. We need-"

Polly cleared her throat. She was the oldest fairy, of the three and twitched her pink scarf agitatedly around her throat as she coughed again, pointedly.

Maleficent bit back a nasty comment, nearly a curse- "What, exactly?"

"No disrespect, Maleficent, we all understand why-" 

The faltered as Maleficent's eyes flashed green. 

"I, I, we- we've already installed new padlocks-" she attempted a smile, "And-"

"No."

"No?"

"Listen to me. All of you." Maleficent could feel the green rising in her voice, and she stared down Polly until the fairy broke her gaze and shrunk back into the crowd. 

"I, am changing the Moors Project. Those who don't like it, can leave. There will be guards on every dome. The herbarium will be under 24 hour surveillance. We're erecting a fence. This is no idle paranoia, this is how you run an organisation. No wonder everyone thinks we are such an easy target. Everyone of you will be background checked. Everybody's keys will be handed back. Anyone who objects, leave now, and don't come back."

Maleficent stepped out from behind the table, and the crowd, now silent, shrank further into corners to avoid her pacing around the table.

"Secondly. No more team meetings. Again. Everything. Though. Me."

"But you can't just-"

Thistle.

Maleficent raised a hand- cupping green smoke that spilled onto the floor. 

"You can't threaten her like that!" Polly's voice was shaky.

"Oh, really? Well, I seem to recall that East and West side has no jurisdiction here, so what happens in the Moors Project stays in the Moors Project. As I said- leave."

Both fairies shrunk back. 

Maleficent turned in a swirl of skirts. "Lastly, the deal with SPINDL corp," don't pause, breathe, "for the Anthraquinone base is off." 

There was a collective muttering.

"This, like everything, is non-negotiable. We have enough sources of income without selling out."

Maleficent paused, again, look look around the room. Her room. 

"I'm also going to move the offices to Dome 3, and out of this hovel. I won't ask if there are any questions because there aren't. You're all dismissed- and give your keys to Diaval as you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Rael_ellen! :):):) 
> 
> Sorry for the bittiness of this chapter. :)


	3. Chocolate and Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diaval learns the ropes at the Moors Project.

At least the adopted employee worked hard. 

Maleficent moved her offices into Dome 3 as she'd said, Diaval flying back and forth with papers and directing the tree spirits with her office furniture while she stalked around the domes with her cane, giving directions to the locksmiths and security team she'd employed. They'd finished by now; everything was starting to settle into a routine after a few hectic weeks, but Maleficent wasn't sure if that was good. The chaos kept her mind occupied and the less time spent alone in bed, the better. She refused to let her therapist visit and tolerated patronising phone conversations about things she didn't want to talk about. 

Like Diaval. Binding a stranger into a life contract, said her therapist, was not the action of a rationally thinking creature. Still, not to her therapist, not to anyone -Maleficent didn't mind the responsibility. Diaval would be there, knocking every morning having flown over from his attic room in the old house. She would have to be up, she would have to have tasks for him. Not that she didn't- of course she did- but- he was very, very punctual now. 

Had she left an impression already?

This morning, the knock came as usual, cheery and brisk.

"Come in."

"Morning!"

Diaval looked a little tired, she thought, but well. He dressed less like a city bird everyday, borrowing this or that from stores in the house or from- Flittle? Maleficent narrowed her eyes. She thought she recognised the flowery T-shirt under his thick oiled jacket. It was ridiculously tight on him and cut far too low but- anyway, none of her business. 

Diaval saw her look, and shrugged his jacket up and shoved his hands in the pockets. Vain bird. 

"I need you to tell Polly to send off the samples from last week to the East-Side lab. She was meant to do that yesterday but I don't have a receipt of delivery on my email. Also..." Maleficent flicked through her file. 

He nodded, "Yep I reminded her yesterday but she got a tad grumpy, I guess I'll tell her again. Should I go back to Dome 12 to check on the repairs?"

"I need you to do something else for me today."

"Oh right?"

"I need you to fly back to the city."

"What? Today?"

"I need this delivered," she tapped a SureSeal™ envelope, "As soon as possible."

Diaval's eyebrows twitched, "To, who?"

"The post isn't reliable, and it needs to be handed over in person by a Moors representative. It would help if you could dress smartly."

"I- but I'm flying, it'll get creased!"

"It works like that does it?" Maleficent sat back in her chair and studied him with genuine interest. "I know a lot of shifters can't take any objects through the change. It's-" 

Impressive was too much. 

"It's interesting how you can."

Diaval shrugged, but smugly. "Ach, I know someone who ends up completely starkers after she shifts, any someone else who can take a few layers of clothing but nothing else. I can even take a small bag!" 

He looked all the world like a smug child.

"Well were I not incredibly busy I would spend half an hour congratulating you on your genetics, but unfortunately this needs delivering, now." 

Diavals eyes narrowed and his apology sounded a little affronted. "Sorry, Ma'am." He reached out a hand for the envelope, tattoos poking out from under his jacket sleeve. 

Maleficent handed it over quickly, slammed her file shut. 

"Take it to SPINDL Corp. and make sure you say it's from me."

"I-"

Maleficent stood, straightened the pencil on her desk. Diaval's mouth was slightly open. 

"You just have to go to reception, but it would help if they'll let you past the scanners and security first, so, don't wear that. Get the shuttle back if you're tired, but I expect you back by tomorrow morning."

She picked up her file in one hand, her cane in the other, and stepped out from behind her desk. Diaval moved aside to let her pass, and she felt his gaze all the way out. 

\----

Maleficent made her way to the laboratory they had on site under a pretense of chasing up Flittle. Actually, she was hoping that Flittle wouldn't be there. Maleficent wanted some time there on her own to go through- well- see what had been taken from them. 

She hadn't set foot in the lab since then, and she didn't want to, but she didn't trust anyone else to search for the traces in the equipment Flittle said they'd left for her, frozen in the back room. The rest was cleaned up, of course, of course. It was never exactly a crime scene. No jurisdiction here.

Maleficent unlocked the series of padlocks manually, only casting a glamour to mute the clank of the locks and the door's rusty hinges. She wasn't stealing in. The Moors was hers. 

Yet. Her heart thumped painfully. 

In the inner lab she keyed in the new code with a swirl of green, and the doors hissed open. 

It was clean, grey, white. 

Neat. 

A little mould by the window. 

The fan was off. 

Maleficent only moved when the doors beeped at her to stop blocking their way, stepping quietly into the room as though one would into a morgue. Her cane, however, clacked on the tiles. 

It was just a room. She breathed in, the smell of disinfectant and soil the same as it was and clenched her fists- well- free fist and knuckles on her stick. It was still only a room. Only a room. Only a room.

Maleficent swept past the benches, trying not to look. Where did they hang the key for the store room? She glanced to the hook on the back wall- and- there- the edge of the furthest bench- the small indent, the mottled pattern of the glazed wood, the burn mark. Etched into her memory like a map into stone-

It was an all too familiar desensitisation. Maleficent had only just stopped shaking and had taken her hands off her horns which she'd been holding a white knuckled grip when she realised she on the floor and her cane had rolled away. Luckily she hadn't- fallen- sat?- where she'd fallen before. There were no insignificant patterns on the lino to remind her of anything. She steadied her breathing. 

And- that's all they were. Patterns that had been there before and would be there afterwards. Mal had just had cause to study them too close as her limbs refused to obey her and-

No.

No no.

Up and out. Maleficent struggled to her feet, reached for her cane, the muscles in her back protesting at the bend. She felt light headed. She nearly grabbed her phone to pager Diaval, but then realised that a) he wasn't here, and b) she had nothing she could ask him to do. Unless she'd trust him to look through the samples instead? As if, he knew as much as a hatchling about science. 

She stormed out unsteadily, locking the door behind her with a clumsy glamour that probably missed a few of her knew padlocks. Maleficent didn't care. 

Outside it was grey and low skied, with a mild wind and a hint of rain. The poplars by the lab bent with a high wind they lacked down on the ground, and Mal could almost feel her feathers rustle with it. She hoped Diaval didn't get caught in the coming rain. 

For a few moments Mal steadied herself with the dratted stick, just breathing in, and out. She should, she thought, really head back to Dome 3 and her office. Maleficent expected to receive a few angry emails from SPINDL Corporation by late afternoon at the latest and she needed to compose herself to answer them with the bile they deserved. 

"No, I won't reconsider. Yes the trade ceases with immediate effect. I do not care if this ruins your project x or y, you have enough revenue to begin again. No I will not be swayed with a price increase, and in fact you can all go to hell." 

At least by then Diaval would have brought over nettle tea and- no. Not today. 

She really hoped he had changed that T-shirt. 

\----

Diaval fell asleep in the shuttle on the way back, and accidentally leant on some little granny who woke him up with a not un-birdlike squawk and hit him with her paper. Yeah, like the smart clothes made him acceptable anyway. What a joke. 

Nah, well, she hadn't moved seats so it was okay, but one of the main problems with the old public transport system that didn't segregate East and West-Side passengers. The ... interactions in Class 0 could be interesting. He could see why Maleficent would want to stay in Class 1, even if it had been accidental. 

No humans hitting you with their biased West-side literature, for one. 

It had been nice to be back in the smog, though. He hardly had time to go back to his old flat-share in the Divide what with SPINDL Corporation Headquarters being well into the rich side of West-Side, but he managed a fly by. Literally. Said hi to the only one of his friends who was there, find out who'd gone, pay his rent (as he's surely to be back in a bit) and get laughed at for the smart jacket and marginally tamed hair. But it was really only five minutes. 

SPINDL was awful. Maleficent hadn't joked about the security screenings and it had taken five minutes of arguing and three metal detectors as well as- get this- a radiation scan- to let him through the front desk. 

Sure the magic burns made him look a tad rough, but really, a terrorist? They hadn't even believed his Moors ID, not that that would make him much better in their eyes after what he could guess was in the envelope marked for the CEO, Stefan West. Even the receptionist had been surprised by the letter, something admittedly not helped by Diaval's overly charming smile and slightly misjudged smart-dress among the human suits who thronged the entrance hall. Still, the only useful thing his family had ever taught him was to smile when you're stuck, and luckily for him people often seemed to like it and the receptionist seemed to genuinely promise it would get to Mr. West. 

He even gave the guy a wave as he sauntered away, really just high with relief to be getting out and past those sodding security blokes with their gates and guns, but still Diaval waited till he was round the corner before shifting. After all, he had no desire to be shot at. 

At the station, Diaval kinda wished he could have stayed longer- stock up on unhealthy food for one as everything they seemed to eat at The Moors tasted like it all smelt- of earth and fertiliser. As it was, to get back to the last train which left in the late evening he only had time to buy a few things in the overpriced station shop, and it was with pockets bulging with fake chocolate bars and drinks that he'd fallen asleep on an old lady, probably looking like he'd just shop-lifted a sweet store. 

Yeah, okay, maybe the newspaper wasn't that out there.

\----

It was well past middnight by the time Diaval had flown in from the shuttle stop. 

Also, it was raining now, a thick mist that seemed deceptively light but actually clouded your vision and got in between your feathers. It was pitch black and the silence of the countryside at night still scared him a little, but still Diaval took the time to circuit just a fraction off his route to see if the light in the office was still on. It was. 

He nearly flew down just to say- well, what? That he'd delivered the letter? 

Maleficent would expect nothing less so it was hardly worth the snide remark that was sure to follow. Still, he considered it, but after a quick turn around he instead flew back to the old house and up to his attic window.

He'd left it open to get back in, and the windowsill was wet. Oh well. Better than stairs.

When Diaval had moved into the old house, he'd had to clean the room right off, so he'd not be sneezing his head off every night. It was old, and derelict. Cobwebs, dirt, dust balls and unused furniture and odd junk in the corners, and tonight it was so dark Diaval could barely blunder his way to the light switch. After the city lights the countryside seemed ethereal and every little noise was amplified in the heavy silence. 

He shifted, sighed as his shoulders protested after the flying, and flopped down to unlace his shoes. With the lantern-like solar bulb above warming up, the low beamed ceiling and white washed boards seemed quite cosy after the damp night air. 

He'd have to be up at seven again. 

Urgh.

What did you have to do around here to earn a holiday?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diaval overhears something, and events are set in motion.

"Tea, nettle as always, and as a treat, a choco-milk from town."

Diaval set down the plate and the mug with a flourish, and turned on his heel to grin at Maleficent. 

From behind her desk, she glanced at the biscuit in its lurid wrapper, and back at Diaval. Her expression wasn't so much stern as a perfect poker face, blank.

"Right, well, I'll just leave that there then." Diaval sucked bit his tongue and rocked back on the heels of his well worn boots. 

Maleficent looked back down to her screen. 

Diaval scratched his head.

The fairy emitted a quiet huff.

"Are you going to stand there all day or do you want to ask me something?"

"No, no! I was just, well, I was, er, wondering if I could get a weekend off to go back to town? You know, just to er, have a break and... I mean it doesn't have to be soon, if we're busy, if you're busy, which you are, but whenever, you know, it's convenient. Ma'am." 

Maleficent flicked at the screen. "I'll think about it. Leave me alone, I want to get on. Chase up Polly and Thistle about the delivery if you want something to do."

"Okay, right." Diaval nodded, even though she wasn't looking up, "Then I'll just leave the tea over here as-"

"-As normal yes. Thank you."

"Right." 

Diaval backed out. Outside, he sighed, looking back the wall as though he could see in (not that he'd want to be caught to be watching her.) That was definitely a bad time to ask about that. Not when she'd been a bit off for a few days. Not that it was his problem. Yet- yet- he was still going to do his bit to solve it with tea and biscuits, even if she didn't want them. Diaval had noticed how little she ate, and damn him if that was his only available option he'd feed her like a hatchling, although of course he was only doing it for his own sake. Everyone knows employers are less grumpy when they're well fed.

Diaval shook his head, and kicked himself into a raven. Polly, Thistle. Right.

\---

The Moors Project was massive. Maleficent hadn't been kidding when she said she needed Diaval to be her wings, as there was no-way you could get from one end to the other by foot without spending the best part of your day walking there and back. Polly, Flittle and Thistle all flew on huge but airy semi-transparent wings in pink, blue and green respectively. They were related, somehow, Diaval had gathered, but he wasn't exactly sure how and Polly seemed a good deal older, and Thistle was even younger than he was. 

He got on well with Flittle well, though, who he guessed was more Maleficent's age, not that it was easy to tell with Fae folk. She was the green gardener stereotype down the core, all worn and weathered denim or cord jackets and floppy flowery trouser legging things that were always muddy, several pairs of woolly socks as winter approached, and huge muddy boots. Although, of course, by now she was minus one or two flowery T-shirts. She didn't mind a bit, and Diaval had lent her a black scarf as hers were all thing and torn from the plants. It looked so funny on her, like a black blot under her blue hair and blue jacket and multicoloured trousers. 

Flittle was the friendliest too. She'd shown him where everything was in the old house, how so use the outdated cookery appliances and, basically, how to garden and not say stupid things about "big trees," to the sprite that cared for the deciduous forest biodome. (He was basically a "big tree" himself and apparently that was insensitive.) She'd also been the most open about Maleficent's... incident. No-one knew that much, really, as Flittle said she'd always been private, but Flittle distinguished the fact from the fiction that Diaval had read on the local net. 

The "fact" had preyed on his mind for a long while and made him want to have stuck some kind of bomb in that letter Maleficent had coolly given him. Still, probably why the screening methods had been there at SPINDL corp. Nasty men need protection. 

Diaval also knew now that Maleficent wasn't into the whole 'talking about it' to feel better thing. Flittle had tried, more than once, and regretted it every time.

Still. Biscuits. She'd only been back for a month, or was it two now? Not long. Not long since she'd... hired him. 

Below, as Diaval circled unseen around the tops of a few firs outside Dome 9, he spotted not Flittle, but Polly and Thistle deep in conversation. Dipping lower, Thistle was hopping on the spot, cold, dressed in her lurid green sports kits as usual, probably fresh out of the tropical Dome 8. Her pony tail bounded as her wings jittered, nervously?

Diaval alighted on a branch and shuffled closer. He could just wait until they're done, right? 

"But how do you know an email didn't come through too?"

"Because she'd have said something by now. I'm pretty sure it's just this one letter. I mean, they don't actually want us there. I'm sure they got that letter she sent Diablo,"

"-Diaval-"

"-that she sent him with. They don't want anyone from the Moors. They can't. It's just, protocol or something."

"Then," Thistle sounded like she had rolled her eyes although Diaval couldn't see her face, "What's the issue? We get rid of the letter, we don't go."

Polly frowned and ruffled her wings.

"But I think we should go, really."

"Urgh!"

"It's good company relations! I know Maleficent wanted that deal for that base chemical thing off, but there are other avenues of revenue that don't involve our rare species, I think, really, SPINDL Corporation are good to have on side! This is a big event- the unveiling of the year- it says- we should show our faces." 

"But they're like, evil. Maleficent called them unethical."

"Is running out of money to keep this place running ethical? I think not. Just think of how many species would be lost!" 

"So?"

"I say we keep this from her, book our weekend off, and go. Just, go. We can be the representatives. They have our names on the door still, according to this, they list several of the old committee so, it's sorted."

"So what do we tell her?"

"Nothing. She doesn't have to know! We foster good relations, all done. Besides, we're much more... acceptable to the press. Sweet fairies, if we can get Flittle out of that jacket and you out of those leggings, and we'll be the nice, inoffensive front our people need!"

"But, like, we're doing this for the project."

"Quite." 

Thistle leant down to tuck a trailing lace in, and Polly fluttered into the air.

"So we're done. Don't say a word, I'll talk to Flittle. Thistle? Understood?"

"Yep got you." Thistle rubbed her arms, "Did you see where I put my jumper?"

Polly, however had already taken off in the opposite direction, and Diaval hopped backwards into the dark heart of the fir to stay out of sight. Thank goodness he was a black bird. 

Thistle, too, trundled off, muttering under her breath, and when they were both out of earshot, Diaval took off again, not to chase them but to go back to Maleficent. Someone had to tell her. He knew it wasn't wise, but- he shook his head. It was wrong.

Sure, he'd persuade her not to go to whatever awful SPINDL press conference it was, or whatever, but she had to know right? Honesty, always better. There was a nagging doubt at the back of his mind, but also something outside of his own judgement compelled him. Damn that curse. It didn't compel honestly, exactly, but... Damn. Damn fucking doodly damn. She was gonna take this so badly. 

\----

Slowly, Maleficent realised that Diaval had returned. He'd snuck in - without knocking, typical - and stood in the corner of the room, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

She ignored him for a few long seconds on principal, wondering how long it would take him to speak up. ... 11, 12...

"Malefi- Ma'am. I found Polly and Thistle just now- and-"

"Were they done?"

"I don't know-"

"That, Diaval, was why I sent-"

"No, I mean, there's something more important, something I, er, overheard."

Maleficent leant her laptop screen down so her face was in shadow. 

He'd... interrupted her. 

"Go on."

"Polly had a letter from SPINDL corp. Not- about the deal thing. It was about a conference... type event. They're, SPINDL corporation that is, hosting some event, some unveiling thing she said. She didn't give a date but I think she might have mentioned next weekend. She didn't think you'd got the invite by email so..."

"So?"

Oh Gods that poker face again.

"So they maybe weren't intending on letting you know and I thought, I don't know- I mean-"

Maleficent shut her laptop with a click and leant back, (gently, Diaval noted) into her chair. Her poker face had slipped into something a little darker. As he waited, not sure what to expect now she was so unpredictable, she absent minded reached up a pale hand and rubbed the marks on her right horn. 

Diaval fidgeted, he couldn't help it.

Maleficent looked back at him.

"You'll have reason to use that suit again I think."

There was something in her look, still dark, but also- something glittered behind her eyes that made Diaval distinctly uncomfortable. 

"Ma'am?"

She smiled, and her teeth were white against red lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short-ish chapter, more is written and Rae is just editing. PLOT IS HAPPENING GUYS. :'D Thank you anyone who commented or subscribed- this is a labor of love for me so however slow I will continue to update until DONE! :D


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